Rolling Stone : COVER STORY: Time to Go! Inside the Worst Congress Ever
a few things:
where is our national media? shouldn't THEY be digging around, telling us how much our leaders suck?
and, why do we to reward the most stupid among us so richly? the letter from randy (duke) cunningham will make you laugh your pants off.
and where are the moderates? where's their spine, their conviction?
and, lastly, i have to wonder, why is it a chronic habit of our macho progressive muckrakers to be sexist and homophobic when 'sticking it to' the GOP?
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Friday, October 27, 2006
Monday, October 23, 2006
blogging confessions
i'm at a crossroads, folks.
it's been fun having Screed, but what now? i've had these blogs for the past 4-5 years and it's time to move on, i feel. change things up a bit - get either more introspective or pack it in. but introspective about what? i started this blog because i needed a place to put all my ire. but ire ain't enough, is it?
and having a blog isn't the fun paradise it's cracked up to be: it's strangers stopping by calling you names (bastids), it's feeling the unconscious urge to be current, be funny, be snide, be snarky, be more ironically distant than the next - not to mention the unspoken urge to get to a certain level of production so that you become an even bigger blog. but it all becomes a bunch of noise after a while.
i want to cut through the noise.
and i miss my journals; i miss the physicality, the privacy and the intimacy of them. there's something about blogging that hints at intimacy - an anonymous kind of intimacy, like a really great one night stand - but because i know there's a reading public (albeit a small one), and i know some of that public, there's a veil over everything i write. i never wanted to write things that were veiled. i wanted it to be my truth. but that's not what blogging has given me: instead of truth, i have versions of truth. hints at truth. and trying to decipher which truth to use is a constraint.
i feel trapped by blogging sometimes. i'm trapped by the need to engage a vague public and the opposing need to say to that public 'i actually don't give a frak what you think. this isn't for you.'
my life coach and i talked about this once. she wanted to know what i loved most about journaling and i said the ability to capture and cultivate a moment that was as real as possible. not all moments are nice. they can be mean and hard and awful. but they can also be beautiful and difficult and funny and true. and we're not at our best all the time in those moments. but the best thing of all was that whatever public eye i was writing for was distant; it was an 'eye' i used to shape my voice. and it was comforting to know there was never going to be a response from that distant critic or audience unless i made a conscious effort to get one. here, there is and that's a big variable.
anyway, blather blather blather.
this is all to say that changes are coming and i have no idea what they are.
it's been fun having Screed, but what now? i've had these blogs for the past 4-5 years and it's time to move on, i feel. change things up a bit - get either more introspective or pack it in. but introspective about what? i started this blog because i needed a place to put all my ire. but ire ain't enough, is it?
and having a blog isn't the fun paradise it's cracked up to be: it's strangers stopping by calling you names (bastids), it's feeling the unconscious urge to be current, be funny, be snide, be snarky, be more ironically distant than the next - not to mention the unspoken urge to get to a certain level of production so that you become an even bigger blog. but it all becomes a bunch of noise after a while.
i want to cut through the noise.
and i miss my journals; i miss the physicality, the privacy and the intimacy of them. there's something about blogging that hints at intimacy - an anonymous kind of intimacy, like a really great one night stand - but because i know there's a reading public (albeit a small one), and i know some of that public, there's a veil over everything i write. i never wanted to write things that were veiled. i wanted it to be my truth. but that's not what blogging has given me: instead of truth, i have versions of truth. hints at truth. and trying to decipher which truth to use is a constraint.
i feel trapped by blogging sometimes. i'm trapped by the need to engage a vague public and the opposing need to say to that public 'i actually don't give a frak what you think. this isn't for you.'
my life coach and i talked about this once. she wanted to know what i loved most about journaling and i said the ability to capture and cultivate a moment that was as real as possible. not all moments are nice. they can be mean and hard and awful. but they can also be beautiful and difficult and funny and true. and we're not at our best all the time in those moments. but the best thing of all was that whatever public eye i was writing for was distant; it was an 'eye' i used to shape my voice. and it was comforting to know there was never going to be a response from that distant critic or audience unless i made a conscious effort to get one. here, there is and that's a big variable.
anyway, blather blather blather.
this is all to say that changes are coming and i have no idea what they are.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
while watching PR...
you wanna know another reason to hate macy's?
their commercials.
i mean, my gawd.
how many un-rhythmic people can you have cavorting awkwardly to a lame cover of martha and the vandellas?
it's some serious ugly.
Saturday, October 07, 2006
my stars and garters!: BG night
Television Without Pity » Battlestar Galactica » Precipice
holy crap. who else was totally stressed out last night watching the double episode of Battlestar? it made me constipated. is starbuck really going to embrace her psychotic cylon lover of death? and who else was screaming at the screen, "kill the child! kill the child!"? oh, you weren't? well, we were. (what else to do? commit suicide? no! kill the half-cylon baby! push leoben over the edge!) and, come on, Chief! who *else* would be your cylon-colonial contact except gaeta?! get your head out of your frakkin' ass! and who in their right mind would sign the cylon order?? gaius, gaius, gaius! you could have been a hero after the fact *and* you would have been put out of your misery! so short-sighted. and is anyone else giggling over the fact that they made apollo look like the dead engineer who briefly commanded the pegasus? (poor john hurt.)
i like fat apollo; his waddle makes him interesting.
holy crap. who else was totally stressed out last night watching the double episode of Battlestar? it made me constipated. is starbuck really going to embrace her psychotic cylon lover of death? and who else was screaming at the screen, "kill the child! kill the child!"? oh, you weren't? well, we were. (what else to do? commit suicide? no! kill the half-cylon baby! push leoben over the edge!) and, come on, Chief! who *else* would be your cylon-colonial contact except gaeta?! get your head out of your frakkin' ass! and who in their right mind would sign the cylon order?? gaius, gaius, gaius! you could have been a hero after the fact *and* you would have been put out of your misery! so short-sighted. and is anyone else giggling over the fact that they made apollo look like the dead engineer who briefly commanded the pegasus? (poor john hurt.)
i like fat apollo; his waddle makes him interesting.
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